The Way Back #18

Eddie felt his palms begin to sweat. So Penguin was behind the Ghost Dragons and, most likely the attack-bots the Titans had faced earlier. If Penguin had a whole army of those things...

"Then we'll take them down," M'Gann reassured him. "That's what we do, isn't it?"

Eddie smiled under his mask. "I know, I know, it's just... this is the big time. And Penguin... nobody's ever been able to pin anything on him."

"Yet."

"Yet," Eddie agreed. "Seriously, though, he covers his tracks well, and he pays off all the right people. Harrier's shown us the file—Batman knows he's got his finger on the pulse of the Gotham underworld. He's as dirty as they come. And he runs a nightclub as a hangout for every creep out on parole... or just plain 'out,' and the cops can't find a damned thing to pin on him."

"One's here, you know," M'Gann remarked casually.

"What?"

"There's an officer here undercover, looking for something he can use to get this place shut down. He must be just on the other side of the wall, or I'd never have picked it up with all the psi-baffles in here. I'll point him out when we see him."

"Excuse me, my dear young sir." Penguin's balding head suddenly loomed close before him. "I do hope you've been paying close attention to what I've been telling you, hmmm?"

Eddie gulped. "Um..."

"We're bouncers. And we don't discuss anythingwe see, hear, or think within these walls, once we're outside them."

"You bet I have," he shot back, duly repeating M'Gann's words.

Penguin moved back, clucking a bit. "That's a gift you have there, my good man," he smiled thinly. "If you can manage to pay close attention whilst appearing to be daydreaming..." he stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You may find yourself advancing rapidly within this organization."

"Um, thanks," Eddie managed. "Seriously. Thanks."

"Anytime. Darn."

"What?"

M'Gann sighed mentally. "Harrier and Wonder Girl are patrolling tonight. Tim just radioed me that they're heading off now, since it looks like we have things under control for now. It might've been more fun going with them."

"Oh. You're going to have to explain to me how that earpiece stays attached when you shape-change, one of these days." He tensed. "Wait, so we're here without backup, now?"

His companion giggled. "No, Eddie. You're here. And I'm your backup. If things turn ugly, we can always signal and they'll turn around."

Penguin leaned forward with an irritated expression. "Well?"

"Grilled cheese and a Zesti. He wanted to know if he could offer you a light refreshment. And, he hasn't actually said it, but he means to deduct the cost of it from your pay." The Martian girl sounded irritated. "And he's not planning on paying you much."

"Sure, I'll have a grilled cheese and a Soder lite," he responded.

Penguin nodded amiably. "That should be ready shortly. So," he took out a small notebook from a desk drawer, "with your employee discount, that will be twelve dollars and eighty-nine cents, to be deducted from your first pay—unless, of course, you carry your wallet in that suit?"

"No, Sir," Eddie replied.

"Yep. Told you so."

--

Dick stared at Cass for almost a moment before he spoke. "That's... wow," he said finally. "Talk about..." he frowned. When he saw that Cass was still waiting expectantly, he let out a long breath. "You know, Bruce asked me to check up on him from time to time."

"You didn't?"

"Well, I did for awhile," Dick replied. "But he was in ICU for a long time. You remember the way it was when Bruce was in there after the fire—very few visitors, nobody inside without a mask and gown... I didn't want to sneak in without scrubbing down; any germs I might have brought in with me could have killed him. And scrubbing down without anyone spotting me wasn't exactly feasible most of the time."

Cass frowned. "Ok. No sneaking. But... asking?"

Dick shook his head. "Ever heard of HIPAA?"

"Big animal, likes water? Looks like rhinoceros with flat face, no horn?" Cass frowned. "How is... relevant?" Then, more angrily, "What's funny?"

"Not a hippo!" Dick finally gasped. "HIPAA! It's..." he took a deep breath and forced himself to stifle his laughter. "Basically, it's a law that says that the hospital can't talk about a patient's condition with just anyone, unless the patient gives the okay. Since Arkham couldn't do that, legally, the hospital couldn't tell me. Babs ran a few checks at first, but it's been months," he fought down a wave of guilt. "And once Bruce got out, and then Dodge, and this thing going on now with the Ghost Dragons," he sighed. "Basically, we've got lives—and no, that's not a good excuse. More of an explanation."

Cass nodded. "I know. It's... he's so... angry. And sad. And... and... he," she shook her head. "When Bruce... when he started to get better, he got angry too. But not like... this. He had... us to... to listen to him. No. To know what he wanted, even if he didn't say. Like," she looked down. "I know I can't always explain."

Dick touched her shoulder. "Hey. You're doing fine. Take another breath."

She obeyed. "Thanks. Okay. When I go... out, and... and fight, I know what moves to make. How to act. Nobody tells me. But I understand fighting, so I just... know. Bruce is... like that. He never tells you. But if you understand..." she grimaced. "I think I understand fighting better."

Dick laughed. "You've known that longer than you've known him. And you're right. Bruce won't usually tell you what's going on—he just expects you to figure it out. But what's that got to do with Arkham?"

Cass smiled sadly. "Understanding Bruce is... hard sometimes. Frustrating."

Dick nodded. "Sure, but that's Bruce."

"So you try. And if you can't... you don't give up." She smiled. "Not really. Even if you walk away, you don't really... give up. Me sometimes." She grimaced. "Need to stop that. But you... never."

Dick knew he was blushing. "That's right," he said carefully. "And...?"

"At the hospital, when Dr. Arkham's nurses don't understand, they give up. They... okay. You know that, before, I talked... worse. Much worse than now." She barely waited for his nod. "At least, when you didn't understand, you told me. You apologized. Maybe you said you didn't have time to try to guess sometimes. If busy. Or... or crisis. But one thing you didn't do was... pretend you understood. Pretend I said something. And then... then ignore me when I tried to tell you that you were wrong." She shook her head. "That's what they do with Dr. Arkham. He hates it. But he can't make them stop."

Dick nodded again. "Yeah, they tried that with Bruce at Arkham, during that first year. Especially when he had one doctor who was less interested in helping him and more interested in doping him to the gills so he wouldn't, and I quote, 'turn violent'." He made a face. "Believe me, Bruce wasn't the one she had to worry about." Dick thought for a moment. "When Bruce was there, I was actually impressed by the level of nursing care. I guess you run into a few bad apples wherever you go."

"Yes," Cass said, soberly. "I remember that. But these... I just... I want to... to shake them. To make them see. But they won't and... and I don't think Dr. Arkham really wants that." Her expression turned almost petulant. " I hate that I can't change things."

Dick let out a long breath. "I can relate. Seriously. You know, Cass... if this is too hard for you, you can always walk away. When I was in high school, I had a friend, Mitchell Winthorp. He wanted to be a doctor more than anything. More specifically, he wanted to be a pediatrician—that's a children's doctor," he clarified, seeing her blank stare. "He was sure that was going to be his career. He got into medical school, and everything was great for the first two years. Third year was when he actually got out of the classroom and onto the wards." Dick sighed. "So, there he was, a third-year medical student, finally dealing with patients. His second assignment was the children's ward at GUMC. And in his first week, two kids died." He shook his head. "They were pretty sick. It happens, unfortunately. Mitch took it hard. He tried to deal, but eventually, he ended up changing gears and going into medical research instead—he didn't think he'd be able to handle losing patients on an ongoing basis. Sadly," he added soberly, "that's one of the realities of the medical profession: just like with what we do, you can't save everyone. You can try, but if you focus too much on the ones you couldn't help, it'll just eat you up inside. What I'm getting at is, if what you're doing is too hard for you..."

"No!" Cass exclaimed. "It isn't. I can do this. I just wish I could make things different!" She smiled ruefully. "But I guess, maybe, it's enough to make things... better. And I think I am." She locked her eyes on his. "Dick, he's... alone. And... and frustrated. Angry. Tired. But..." she sighed, "he has no one." She shook her head. "He told me. Wrote me. Seven months, no... longer... and no visitors. I can't even... I'm going back on Friday. I have to."

Dick nodded. "I understand." He glanced at the clock. "Feel like getting a spar in before patrol?"

Cass nodded back, smiling a bit.

"Okay. Just give me a minute to get changed and I'll meet you in the cave. And Cass, if you want to vent or just talk, you know you can come to me, right?"

"Yes. Thanks." She frowned, remembering that she'd had a second reason for coming by today. "Dick? Hospital volunteer office needs my... zip code. What do I tell them?"

--

Bruce squared his shoulders and walked into Krait's office. Despite himself, he was starting to admire the man's tenacity. In all this time, he hadn't pushed for more than Bruce was willing to give, but he hadn't given up, either. That suited Bruce fine. He didn't really mind one hour of superficial chitchat per week—at least he hadn't until the previous session, when Krait had unexpectedly brought up those damned society affairs.

Today, Krait looked somewhat nervous as he greeted Bruce. Bruce returned the pleasantry and took his usual chair.

"You realize," Krait began, that it's already been five months since the hearing?"

Four months, twenty-seven days, and approximately three hours, he corrected mentally. "Has it?" he asked aloud.

Krait nodded. "I know we got off on the wrong foot from the start—and I take full responsibility for that. I'm required to pay you a minimum of five home visits before the next hearing convenes." He brought a hand to his temple and absently finger-combed his hair back. "I'd figured to get the first one out of the way initially, and then space the others out at even intervals. I'd meant to call you to set up the first visit—"

"Then why didn't you?" Bruce rapped out harshly.

"Actually," Krait replied, "I did. Or at least, I thought I did. There was a typo in your file. Several, in fact, but the relevant one... transposed the last two digits of your contact telephone number. If the number that I actually dialled had been out of service, I would have investigated more fully. Had the voicemail message given me the name of the party I was calling, that would have been a tip-off as well. Unfortunately, it was an electronic voice recording that confirmed the number that I'd reached and asked me to leave a message at the tone. Your home telephone number is unlisted—understandably enough, of course. That is to say that if I were in your... circumstances, mine would be as well." He picked up a paperclip from his desk caddy and rubbed it between thumb and forefinger.

"I called that number every day for two weeks, morning and evening. I never reached a live person and nobody ever called me back. Met with that sort of reaction, I concluded that you were avoiding me."

"So you decided to confront me at home." Bruce considered. What Krait was saying made altogether too much sense. "Why didn't you say so in the first place?"

"I'm an ex-military man, Mr. Wayne. One thing that we learn early on is the phrase 'no excuse, sir'. To put it plainly, when Alex arranged that conference in his office, how would you have reacted if I'd tried to justify my actions?"

Bruce grunted, conceding the point. "And now?"

"I'm still not trying to give you excuses. I'm giving you a bit of background, because I fervently hope that we can start making some progress. If my explanation helps to clear the air, fine. If not, I'm ready to step aside if another caseworker can be found—although I don't know what that's going to do to your hearing date."

Bruce could barely believe his ears. "Are you threatening—"

"No, damn it!" Krait shot back. "I'm trying to make you see! There are a limited number of caseworkers on the city's payroll, and it could be weeks or even months before any one of them has a spot available. Before the hearing reconvenes to determine whether to end your..." He thought for a moment before he continued. "... Your court-ordered supervision, you have to have those four additional home visits and they can't all be lumped together in the final month. If it takes six months for you to be assigned a new case worker, that will push back the date for your hearing."

Bruce frowned as Krait's words sank in. Then, slowly, he nodded and sat back.

Krait took a deep breath. "I had hoped that over the course of these last few months, we would have developed some sort of a rapport. It hasn't happened, and maybe I'm to blame for not giving you an explanation until now. For that, I'm sorry. But if you want the hearing to have a chance of going in your favor, then over the course of the next seven months, I need to make another four home visits."

"I'm listening," Bruce said flatly.

"I'll take that as encouragement." Krait kept his focus on Bruce as he opened his desk drawer and pulled out a manila folder. "Now, had we met prior to that first... home visit—"

"Home invasion," Bruce corrected, straight-faced.

Krait chuckled at that. "Fine. I don't think I can disagree with you, there. As I was saying," he sobered quickly, "had we met under better circumstances, I would have given you this checklist at our first session. I realize that it looks exten—"

Bruce pulled the sheaf of papers of the caseworker's hand and began leafing through it. There were a lot of items on the list, but as he skimmed them, he realized that most of them were already handled by the cleaning staff that Jim had hired. As for the rest... He looked up. "I'll study it further this evening," he said finally.

"Fair enough. When we meet next week, I would like to set up a mutually acceptable time for the second visit, though."

Bruce folded the papers and tucked them into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. "I'll keep that in mind."

Krait nodded. "Moving right along, then," he said, "how have you been keeping since our last meeting?"

Bruce lifted both eyebrows and smiled faintly, more than a little relieved to be back on familiar ground. "Fine."

--

Lonerghan left the Iceberg, walking rapidly toward his car.

"In a hurry?" a cold voice emanated from the shadows.

The disgraced former police officer turned around slowly, his expression resigned. "You again, Batman? Don't you have a Bingo game to crash or something?"

The vigilante seemed to explode out of the darkness, charging forward in barely-controlled fury. "You're pathetic, Lonerghan!" he snarled. "How much did Penguin pay you to try to lead your squad into an ambush? What kind of sorry excuse for a man-?"

Lonerghan had his revolver out in record time. "D-don't come any closer," he warned. "Aaah!" The gun fell to the ground, and he found himself rubbing his hand, which was now bleeding where the batarang had slashed it.

"Wrong move, Lonerghan. And the wrong person to try it with. Now are you going to talk or...?"

The ex-cop turned tail and tried to run. Batman was quicker. He fired his grappling cable low, looping it around the fleeing man's ankles. Lonerghan fell heavily to the pavement.

"Hope you've got a good head for heights," Batman said. His tone was almost friendly as he hoisted his captive over one shoulder and fired off another cable, snagging the cornice of a low-rise several yards away.

"Oh my G-d, what are you doing?" Lonerghan gasped. "No! Please!"

"You have something to say to me?" Batman demanded.

"Oh my G... Look, man, what do you want from me? I don't know anything! What do you want me to do? Make something up?"

Batman shifted his grip. "Sorry. Wrong answer. Now if I were the Big Blue Boy Scout, this would be the perfect time for me to say, 'up, up and away'!" He retracted the cable, letting it pull them both slowly upwards.

Lonerghan screamed.

A moment later, Batman dumped him unceremoniously down onto the roof of the building. Then he sprang lightly down from the low parapet. "You okay?"

Lonerghan took a few deep breaths as he dusted himself off. "Heights are fine," he said finally. "Dangling upside-down over some grandstander's shoulder, with one thin rope the only thing keeping me from being a wet spot on the pavement? Not so much."

Batman looked away. "Sorry about that," he said sheepishly. "In case you were being watched, I wanted to make it look convincing."

"Well, you half-convinced me!" Lonerghan shot back. "Sheesh, if you treat your allies like this, I'd hate to see what you do to your enemies!"

"That's right," Batman said seriously. "You would. So. You said you wanted to meet with me."

Lonerghan nodded. "I've been doing some thinking, and what I'm thinking is, I'm not going to find one shred of evidence to link Penguin to the Gotham Underworld."

Batman started to say something. Lonerghan cut him off.

"No, seriously. He covers those tracks too well. And if he does slip up, he's got a team of sharp attorneys who know all the angles. He pays off the right people for protection. If we try to bring him in on racketeering, extortion, money laundering, anything at all like that, we'll fail."

The cowled figure loomed high over the prone figure. "Did you seriously interrupt my patrol to tell me that?"

Lonerghan flinched. "I... no, wait!" he called. when Batman would have stalked to the edge of the roof. "We won't get him that way, but we can do it a different way."

Batman paused. "Keep talking."

"You know how the feds finally got smart and nailed Capone on tax evasion when they couldn't make anything else stick?"

Behind the cowl, Batman's eyes eyebrows shot up. "You have proof that Penguin's been cooking his books?"

"No, not that. But I've got something just as good."

The vigilante shifted his stance. "I'm listening."

As Lonerghan explained, Batman's lips pulled up into a tight smile. "I believe I'm beginning to like the way you think," he said slowly. "I'll be in touch."

He bent down. "For now, though," Batman continued, "cross your wrists behind your back and put your ankles together." He held out a pair of plastic zip-ties. "Penguin knows what usually happens to his stooges once I haul 'em off. Best to keep up appearances." Seeing Lonerghan's expression, he continued. "Cobblepot will probably have you bailed out first thing in the morning. He figures the sooner you're out of custody, the less likely you'll be to spill what you know."

The undercover officer sighed. "Do it."

--

"This is terrific," Barbara said as she set the teapot back down. "How is it that you never learned how to cook, but you can brew bancha like a tea master?"

Bruce shrugged. "It was considered an honor for a Qwan Ki Do novice to be asked to wait upon his master," he replied. "One of the standard duties was preparing and serving tea."

"So, wait. In between splitting boards with your bare hands and meditation, they taught you this?"

"Actually," Bruce said, "the meditation came first, then the tea. Then, as I recall, there was language instruction—Master Nguyen didn't speak a word of English, so those of us who came from abroad had to master Vietnamese."

Barbara blinked. "How long did it take you before he actually taught you how to fight?"

Bruce thought for a moment. "If I'm remembering right, it was probably about six months."

"I don't know what shocks me more," Barbara said, shaking her head slowly. "That you spent half a year training to brew tea, or that you learned Vietnamese in six months!"

"Well, it was a controlled vocabulary," Bruce pointed out. His expression turned serious. "I do appreciate your coming here today," he said. It was easier to say it this time. He cupped one hand and brought it to his mouth. "I don't know if your father is able to lip-read," he continued. "And I'm not sure whether he's observing us from the cave at the moment. I hope you don't mind that I'm not taking the chance."

Barbara frowned. "It's fine with me if you want to cover your lips," she said dubiously, but what's this all about? Did you," she hesitated. Just where were the cameras in here? "Is everything okay?"

Bruce relaxed slightly. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "I was wondering. Has your father mentioned anything to you about... being here out of duty?" His shoulders slumped. "I'd thought that he chose to come here because he wanted to, but now, I'm beginning to have my doubts."

Barbara took a gulp of tea, wincing as she scalded her tongue. "Have you asked him?"

Bruce shook his head. "I'm asking you. I thought he might have told you if there was an issue."

"Well, he hasn't," Barbara returned. "But here's the thing... he's here night and day. I mean, seriously, Bruce, don't you like the idea of having more time alone?"

That checked him. "Solitude... wasn't an option for a long time," he said softly. He sighed. "First I endured the lack of it, but now... I think I may have come to prefer the company." His voice dropped to a whisper. "And maybe that's one area where I shouldn't be trying to restore the old status quo."

Barbara smiled at that. "Still, think about it. He wants to be here for you, but for more than twelve hours every day, he has to be, like it or not. Sheesh, Bruce, I loved school when I was a kid, but even I couldn't wait to get out once the bell rang." She reached out to cover his hand with her own. "You never really did get to be alone before," she pointed out. "I mean, not unless you wanted to be. Alfred gave you your space, but if you needed him, he was there. And if you'd called and said you needed any one of the rest of us, we'd—"

"—have assumed that Tetch had hatted me and I was leading you into a trap?"

Barbara laughed. "Well, that too." She sighed. "Look, from what you're saying, you like it when we're around, but you also like having your own space once in awhile. Daddy's the same way. With the current set-up, even when he's off-duty, he's still on call—and you do have a way of..."

"Of calling," Bruce finished. He shook his head. "I'd thought it would be easier for both of us if he moved into the manor."

"It was," Jim said quietly from behind, startling them both. "At the time, anyway." He walked over to the sofa and sat down. "Believe me, Bruce, I know what it's like coming home to an empty house that wasn't so empty just a short while ago. If you recall, I spend a few months in Europe because I couldn't adjust."

"How much did you hear?" Bruce asked.

"Enough." He smiled sadly. "I'm moving back into the cottage tomorrow night. You don't need me around as much as you think you do," he held up a hand as Bruce opened his mouth to respond. "You don't. Not if you're spending all those hours downstairs."

"If you're still angry about that—"

"I wasn't angry in the first place," Jim replied. "But it shows me that you can manage on your own for a bit." He smiled. "I just think it's going to be better for both of us, this way. And besides," he smiled, "I have a feeling that if I invite you over for supper occasionally, as a guest, you might make a little more effort to show up on time."

Bruce cautiously returned the smile.

--

Cass walked into the volunteer office two days later. "Zip code," she said, smiling as she thrust the small slip of paper forward. "Okay?"

Doug grinned back. "Thanks, Cass. How are things working out?"

"Okay," she said guardedly.

"Well, I haven't heard any complaints yet, so no news is good news, right?"

She wasn't sure she understood what the words meant, but his body language was relaxed and he was smiling. After a moment she smiled back.

According to the clock on the side wall, she had to be upstairs in another five minutes, so... "Bye," she said, turning to leave.

"Cass? Wait a second?"

She stopped and turned back. "Yes?"

"I was wondering... Sunday afternoon, I know you're not scheduled to work, but we're going to be showing a movie in the patients' dining hall. Normally, it's not hard to get volunteers in on the weekend to help with setup and transportation, but most of our people are students in the middle of exams. Is there any chance that you'd be free from noon to about six?"

"Movie?" Cass repeated.

"Yes. We'd need you to set up the chairs for the patients who are ambulatory, wheel down the ones who aren't—oh, and take them back up once it's over—and a few other minor things, like pushing a snack cart every so often. The rest of the time, you can just sit back and enjoy the show. Think you might be up for it?"

She considered. She didn't have to patrol until eight that night. "Which movie?"

Doug grinned. "My Fair Lady. It's a musical. Long one—almost three hours. We're figuring it'll take about an hour and a half to set up, and the same for cleaning up. So, what do you say?"

The title meant nothing to her, but that didn't matter. If the hospital needed her, then, "Yes. Okay. Sunday." She pointed to the clock. "Got to go now." She bolted, almost before Doug could thank her.

--

Krait checked his day planner and shook his head. "I do have a slot free next Wednesday at two, but I have a one o'clock appointment down in Tri-Corner, and a three o'clock in Chinatown. I don't think it's feasible. How about Thursday at ten?"

"Not acceptable," Bruce said after thinking for a moment. The cleaning staff never finished before noon. "One o'clock?"

Krait sighed. "My entire Thursday afternoon is solidly booked, and Friday morning we're driving into Vermont to spend the weekend in Stowe. I'll be back on Monday night... Tuesday? Four o'clock?"

Bruce considered. It seemed that there something problematic about the day, but he couldn't remember what. Most likely, he and Dick were meeting for coffee. If so, the time could be moved forward or pushed back. "Very well."

It wasn't until Bruce was back in the car and pulling his own appointment calendar out of the glove compartment, that realized what he'd arranged. Tuesday morning, Selina was flying to Sienna with the Birds. Which meant that when Krait showed up on Tuesday afternoon, Bruce would be trying to entertain his nineteen-month-old daughter—who had already demonstrated that she did not always like meeting new people. In fact, she could be quite vocal about it. Couple that with her natural curiosity, and this had all the potential to emerge as a full-blown disaster...

To be continued!

Let us know what you think here!